Looking at Jasmine, Sanford knew there was a body in the room; he didn’t have to hear the request. “It’s not your fault, Cooper, you can’t save them all,” Sanford said sympathetically when they stopped in front of Jasmine.
“You save more than you lose, Cooper,” Guy continued. “A hell of a lot more than the rest of us.”
Jasmine didn’t respond. She brushed away new tears from her eyes, but the officers knew they were tears for the kid; Jasmine was one of the most deadly officers they’d ever met and nothing frightened her.
Nothing.
Chapter 2
Jasmine stepped onto her Electro Glide transport, mumbling, cursing the traffic that streamed past the door. Although the corridors were the width of an eight-lane highway it seemed as if everyone who lived there were rushing about, and not one person or transport slowed down or pulled over to let the emergency personnel on to the emergency lane. It was worse than when her parents were stuck in rush hour traffic on Interstate 635. She hated the underground, the people, the traffic, the stupid transport, but more importantly, she hated the Last Pharmacist.
They looked over to Jasmine. She was stoic, silent, as if controlling her emotions from some sort of Zen training. Authorities were forbidden to express any type of emotion, especially anger, in public, even when in pursuit or confrontation. She looked at the door with an expression that sent a shiver down Officer Long’s spine. He pitied the man who was behind all this
“I’ll meet you at the center,” Jasmine said in a near whisper, and then whipped across the corridor into the traffic flow.
“She’s going for him, isn’t she,” Officer Guy asked. “She’s going to find that guy and break him into little bitty pieces.”
Officer Long didn’t reply. He knew Jasmine would be going after the pharmacist, and even though he’d tried to talk her out it, nothing was going to stop her. “She lost her father to a junkie,” Long said, after coughing away the same emotion Jasmine had while bending over the boy. Although she was well-trained, held the best close rate, held the highest rating as a marksman, held a third degree black belt, and had broken every record ever set on the force, he was still afraid for her. Even though the most lethal person he had ever met, she had the softest heart of anyone he knew.
Coming down the corridor in a slow but steady pace, the EMT cart approached 9700 in a cold yet professional manner.
Citizens stopped and stared, all knowing very well what lay in the small apartment.
More available than water, the Heroin rushed through the underground highways looking for a new host as if the drug itself was a virus.
Chapter 3
Jasmine sat and watched as Commander Baul Herne dug through a box that looked as if it had been one of the original artifacts confiscated before the meteor hit. It wasn’t unusual to see someone clinging to the past but the commander’s action actually entertained her. As he dug deeper, his profanity became worse and she didn’t have a clue what he was looking for.
After a few minutes of digging, he huffed and armed beads of sweat from a pockmarked forehead, mumbling curse words definitely forbidden by an officer, especially in front of a subordinate.
“Is there something I can help you with, sir?” Jasmine asked while trying to keep the humor out of her voice. She loved the commander, and he loved her, but she was thinking if she started laughing, she might hurt his feelings.
He mumbled, cursed again, and then finally looked up as he replied, “I wanted to show you what things look like outside.” He tossed a thick stack of photos on the table. “Pictures that don’t make the intranet, too gross to make the intranet, and highly censored—” he coughed, “—pictures only shared by high ranking officers and what’s left of our government.”
Jasmine picked up the stack and became wide eyed as she saw what people were doing to each other. In the background, she heard Commander Herne continue, “When we send a platoon, most of them come back… when we send a loner, we never see them again...”
She thumbed through the photos in silence, taking in the inhumane actions. “These are human skulls, aren’t they...?” Jasmine said more to herself than to Commander Herne. “A warning?”
“Yeah, that and scare tactics.” He sat down. “Those skulls are at the Texas-Oklahoma boarder, not far from where your dad and I grew up, the Red River area, and some of those skulls belong to our troops, troops that were sent to police the outer perimeter. When you come out from the Oklahoma underground that’s what you’ll see first... those skulls. Only God knows what else you’ll find.”
“What about the Kansas-Oklahoma border? What will I find?”
Commander Herne grimaced before saying, “The same but much worse. Evidently, they think the Kansas force is harsher than Oklahoma. We do have a larger force. Maybe that’s why.”
Jasmine stared at the pictures one-by-one, committing not the horror but the surroundings to memory. She was thinking that she wanted the lay of the land when, like a prairie dog, she poked her head out of the hole. “Do you have any more?” She asked, finally handing the pictures back. “The maps I have are before the impact. I can’t find any as of late.”
Commander Herne looked at her with sorrow in his eyes and a frown that nearly broke her heart. “Jaz, honey, I’d die if something happens to you—” he cleared away a knot in his throat. “There are really bad people out there, people that will rape you, brutalize you, kill you, then cook and eat you, and I’m not saying this to scare you.”
“I know, Uncle Baul, but someone has to stop that bastard. It’s obvious that we’re failing to stop the drugs from entering the cities so we have to go after the guy who is distributing the drugs, and why in the hell are they calling him the Last Pharmacist.”
Commander Herne stood; his six-foot frame cast a gray shadow over his desk to Jasmine’s hands as if wanting to hide the pictures she was studying.
“I really don’t know the answer to that and I don’t believe anyone does, but what I do know is there have been at least a dozen bounty hunters, trained and untrained, that have gone after the bastard, and that’s just from Kansas. None of them have returned. He has even eluded the Texas Rangers, which I might add is impressive...” He paused. “And Jasmine, some of those men were top notch peace officers. Men who scared the hell outta me. Hell, we even sent a platoon of men who I knew for sure would catch and kill the bastard but he’s as elusive as the frigging wind... None of those guys returned, Jaz. Zero.”
Jasmine stood and paced the small office. “Can you get me maps and pictures of what it looks like out there now? And the last known coordinates of where he’s supposedly located?”
Herne sighed. Sat down and dry washed his face. “I could have you arrested, you know, for disobeying orders.”
“But you won’t,” Jasmine said with a smile. Although a grown woman, and a woman to be feared, she then went to him and sat on his lap buttering him up and digging into his soft spot and pulling on his heartstrings. “I’ve known you all my life, Uncle Baul. And, I know under that gruff is a man I love more than anything else in the world, a man that my parents loved and adored... a man who is my mother’s brother and my father’s best friend... why would you want to stop me?” She kissed him on the cheek, and then hugged him. “I need to stop this, and it’s not just for the bounty... It’s for dad. He would want this... He would let me go.”
Baul knuckled tears from his eyes, coughed again, then said, “I’ll get you anything you want and everything I think you’ll need.” He chuckled. “You’ve been doing this crap since you were two years old. You know Dooriya is gonna kill me when she finds out I’m helping you.”
Jasmine stood and paced the small office again, thinking. She then turned back to Herne and said, “I’ve already spoken to Aunt Doori.” He started to say something. “I didn’t want her to tell you, or influence you. I wanted you to help me on your own.”
“And she’s for it?”
Jasmine nodded. “She suggested the gyps
y disguise for only she and God knows why. A premonition, I suppose. She wants me to be the helpless and absent minded gypsy with a deck of tarot cards.”
“Oh, damn. She read your cards, didn’t she?” Jasmine didn’t answer. “The death card?” No answer. “Oh, fuck...”
Chapter 4
“Can I go with you?” Officer Jim Long asked, watching as Jasmine tugged on a vest with two narrow holsters sewn on the inside in the back, one holster on each side. Her grandmother, a ROM Gypsy who migrated up and down the Midwest like a goose in search of a warm place to settle, had worn the vest. The holsters had originally been pockets used to pilfer goods when grandma shoplifted her nightly meals. Her friend, Tank, had altered the vest to not only support the weapons but he also added a thin liner that would help keep her warm.
Beneath the vest was a rawhide leather shirt and to compliment the shirt, Jasmine wore black leather pants with rawhide patches sewn across her ass cheeks, inner thighs, and knees. She wore two pistol holsters and two sheaths that held throwing knives. She then shoved a specially designed semi-automatic Mossberg pistol grip shotgun into the right shoulder holster, and then a specifically designed grenade cannon in the left shoulder holster in the back. Then a semi-automatic Glock in each holster on her sides, and finally she shoved two knives, specially designed for throwing, into the final two sheaths. She then wrapped around her neck and down her chest, two specially designed ammo belts, buckled them, and fastened them to the waist belt that held clips in pouches wrapped around her waist.
She turned. Knelt down a couple of times, and then darted across the room and up the wall before flipping over. She turned to Jim Long and smiled. “Come at me,” she said in a teasing manner.
“I haven’t heard, but has hell frozen over?” Long said in a somewhat jocular manner.
“Come on, silly, I want to make sure I can still move around. This gear is adding a few pounds and the Mossberg and cannon feel a little bulky.”
Long leaped at her and found himself on the floor. He looked up at the smile that he had secretly fallen in love with. A smile that made his day but broke his heart when he saw the pain she was living with every time they found a body wasted by the drugs from the Last Pharmacist. Although he openly voiced his disagreement, he knew he would never be able to stop her. He also knew she wasn’t going to let him go with her.
“Well?” he asked as she pulled him up. “Feel good?”
“Yeah,” she answered with a nod. “Much better than I thought. Remind me to thank Tank when I see him. The man is brilliant at designing clothes and weapons.”
“Semi-automatic shotguns, no pumping, just pull the trigger. And the frigging cannon is a hoot,” Officer Long said with a laugh. “I can’t even imagine how he did it.”
Jasmine grinned and said, “He is the master of weapons, that’s for sure.”
“And anything for his Jasmine,” Long continued in a jealous tone.
She laughed as she pulled on a jacket often worn by gypsies. She then spun around, and as she turned, she pulled both shoulder guns and pulled the triggers. Two loud clicks echoed. She then shoved the shoulder guns back into their holster, whipped out both Glocks and pulled the triggers. Then, while shoving the Glocks into their holster she kicked over Jim’s head.
“Like frigging dancing, babe. You move like a frigging gypsy dancing around a camp fire.” She hugged him. “But I’d feel better if you took me with you.”
“I know you would, but you’re the only one who knows who Baul and Doori are, and they’re not getting any younger.” She kissed him. “I need you here, and I want you here when I come back. Besides them, I need someone here for me to come back to.” She looked at him for a long moment. “I need you to want me to come back as well.”
He grabbed her and held her so tightly he almost felt like he was going to break her. “How could it be any other way?”
Although she had insight, she never imagined that this would the last time she’d ever kiss Jim.
Chapter 5
Sitting at the dinner table, Dooriya turned over another tarot card. She mumbled a faint, “Huh,” two times before she turned over the next card. She looked up and said, “I think it’s a family... go out of your way to help them, they’ll remember.”
Jasmine nodded.
“Hmm. A Knight… There’s a young man—.”
“Oh, no. No young man. That would break Jim’s heart.”
“He’ll survive. I don’t like the little whiny ass anyway. You can do better,” Dooriya said with a chuckle, swiping her hand as if shooing away a fly. “You’ll need that family later. Understand? They’re a key to this whole thing… I don’t know why but it’s important.” Jasmine nodded. “Oh, shit, your uncle’s home. Not a word. He was so pissed when he got home last night I thought he was going to have a coronary.” Jasmine sighed. “He doesn’t want you to go, Jaz, and I don’t blame him. I’m scared to death.”
“I’ll make it.”
“Honey, the cards aren’t in your favor. That death over the nine of swords shows you’re surrounded, and you’re… you’re down on the floor, and... And, believe me when I say this, I love you as much as he does. You shouldn’t do this... You’re also the only person I know who has inherited your grandmother’s gift,” she chuckled, “And puts up with my weird crap.”
Jasmine smiled as she dropped her chin on the crook of her elbow, falling into deep thought. Even though she knew her odds were extremely low that she’d be back, she had to try. The bounty was at ten million dollars in US credits and a choice of five acres of land and a home built to any desired specifications, anywhere in the planned reconstruction of the US. She had heard the Hawaiian Islands, although nearly devastated during the impact and subsequent volcano eruptions, had safe places to live. She wanted so much to have a small villa built, a place for her, and her aunt and uncle. She wanted to feel the sun on her face, and she knew Baul’s health was slowly deteriorating. He was nearing underground life expectancy and had a year, maybe two to live.
In his usual noisy fashion, Commander Baul Herne came barging into the dining room, hauling another large box under each arm. He looked at Jasmine, then over to Dooriya, and then back to Jasmine before saying, “I got maps, pictures, and a close proximity to where they believe the pharmacist and his factory is located.” He put the boxes on the table. “You did hear me say, believe, right?”
He slammed down in a chair and popped the top off the first box. He then dug out a map enclosed in plastic and laid it on the table. “I highlighted the possible route in yellow. It’s the old state highway 75. Unfortunately there isn’t one frigging bridge standing between here and Dallas, so crossing the Red River is going to be a bitch.”
Jasmine traced her finger lightly over the route he highlighted. SH 75 to SH 121. It looked simple enough. “What’re the red circles?” Jasmine asked, looking at approximately thirty red circles from Kansas to SH 121.
“Rebels and other above-ground dwellers that have banded together over time and have been doing a lot of killing and damage. The purple circles are cannibals.”
She sat up, looking at Baul.
“People gotta eat, sweetie, even if it’s each other...”
They stared at each other for a moment until Baul blurted, “Damn it, Jasmine. You’re a top cop, the best in this department, in the sector, maybe in the state, but going after the pharmacist is a suicide mission.” Jasmine didn’t reply; she merely looked down at the table. “We won’t even talk about the elements. Every goddamned bounty hunter is out there looking for him, as well. Not only will you have to find a man no one has ever seen, you’ll have to fight every goddamned piece of slime from here to Dallas just to get the opportunity to catch him.”
He caught his breath, muttered something, then withdrew another large stack of pictures and laid them on the table. He lightly spread them across the table as a dealer would a deck of cards. He then pulled out a three-by-five notebook and dropped it next to the pictures. Witho
ut saying a word, he flipped it open to a marked page. On it was written a single name and address. Nothing else. Out of the other box, he removed a survivor backpack that was designed to accommodate her shotgun and cannon. It allowed her to let the guns ride up a little higher but hide them from anyone’s view. Inside the backpack was a water compartment with a well-hidden rubber tube used as a straw. Compartments to hold food, sparse pieces of clothing, additional ammo and survivor gear.
“Tank designed the pack to be as light-weight as possible, but you’re going to want to wear it for a few days to get used to it. I’d recommend filling it with as much weight as you can and wear it from the moment you get home to when you dress for work,” Baul said with hesitance. “Water is heavy and you’ll want as much as you can carry.” He then coughed and fingered something from his eyes. “I’m not telling you when to leave but I will tell you the wind season—” He laughed. “We used to call it tornado season. Anyway, the wind season is coming and it is not pretty. It’s not uncommon to have hundreds of tornadoes—ten, fifteen at a time—drop out of the sky with no warning.” He slid a picture across the table. “Tandem tornadoes, two by two, crisscrossing each other and ripping up every goddamned piece of garbage in their path, and that’s where you’ll poke that pretty little head of yours out of our fair cities. Right smack dab in the path of the old tornado alley, which is a hell of a lot worse now than then; and, then it was a bitch.”
“When do you recommend?” Jasmine asked.
“I’d wait until the near-end of the wind season. There’ll be enough wind to give you cover but not quite as dangerous. Five, six months from now. That’ll also give you time to get used to all this gear and clothing. Give you some time to train with all that crap on your back.”
He slid a key card to her. “For the officer training center. Fill the tank with water, then as much weight as you can squeeze into backpack. Run, jump, hop, scale, crawl, dance, and shoot. Every day until it’s time. Get the feel of everything you’re taking with you.” He looked at her standard issue boots. “Get rid of those goddamned things. They won’t last a week. Go see Tank, get him to design and make you a pair… He has a crush on you and will make anything and everything you need.”
4POCALYPSE - Four Tales Of A Dark Future Page 14